


Gunman, Meet Weapon

by Anonymouslazycat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Fluff, Fugitive Bruce Banner, Gen, Gratuitous Frankenstein References, Hidden angst, Humor, Pre-Canon, Pre-IM1, Pre-Incredible Hulk, References to deleted scene, Title is cooler than fic, Unlikely Plot, could be shippy if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymouslazycat/pseuds/Anonymouslazycat
Summary: Re-written version of one of my first fics, now long deleted.Basically, Tony and Bruce meet accidentally, post-Hulk creation but before the events of any of the movies. Bruce knows who Tony is (Who wouldn't?). Tony has no idea.





	Gunman, Meet Weapon

**Author's Note:**

> Like the summary says- I initially wrote this yeaarrrssss ago, but deleted it in a fit of oh-god-my-writing-sucks. Decided to redo it because I actually liked the ideas behind it. Also I needed a springboard to get back into fic writing haha. Hope you like it!
> 
> Also, this fic might make more sense (and be more angsty, to be fair) if you're familiar with this deleted scene from Incredible Hulk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1e6Pd4dQ9Q

Tony Stark was being mugged.

   In retrospect, there was really no possible turn of events that could have led to him _not_ being mugged- except, of course, if he hadn’t gotten bored and decided to go exploring in a strange city in a strange country where he didn’t speak more than a few phrases from the native language.

   In retrospect, that had been a really shitty idea.

   It was all Rhodey’s fault. Well, no, not _really,_ but that gave him someone to blame besides himself. Always a good thing. And, after all, Rhodey was the reason why Tony was stuck here for much longer than it would normally take to attend a weapons conference. Sort of. It had been Rhodey’s plane that couldn’t withstand a little bit of tinkering. And it had been Rhodey who told Tony that he would have to “suck it up and stay right the hell where you are until I figure out what the hell you did to that plane”, which he had followed up with by referring to Tony as an “attention-deficit chipmunk with a screwdriver”.

   So really, not Rhodey’s fault at all. But right now, Tony had more important things to worry about than the finer points of blame. Like the fact that there was a wild-eyed and very dangerous-looking man holding him against a wall and rifling through his pockets and oh god, was that a _knife?_

Panic was really starting to set in and then, to make matters worse, he heard something that made his already adrenaline-drenched heart feel like it was about to crawl out of his throat. Another man’s voice, shouting at the first one. Tony craned his neck, looking over his assailant’s shoulder. The other man was wearing pants and a jacket that seemed to be a few sizes too big, along with a pair of shoes that had clearly seen better days and a ragged old cap shoved over his tangled hair. He was clearly not a local, and would have looked pretty harmless, if he hadn’t been holding a handgun and pointing it at the first man. As it was, Tony got the feeling that this situation was about to turn from bad to worse.

   The two men began to argue- at least, Tony _assumed_ they were arguing. He couldn’t know for sure, since he didn’t understand what they were saying, but it looked like they were debating who would get to rob him. The first one was talking very fast, but the second spoke more haltingly, with a bad accent.

   After some more raised voices and gesturing- the latter mostly coming from the guy with the gun- the guy with the knife seemed to give up. He dropped Tony’s watch and wallet, backed off slowly with his hands up, and then turned tail and _ran_. The second man tucked his gun into some unseen holster inside his jacket. Tony quickly took this opportunity to reach down and grab his things. 

   “You okay?” asked the strange man.

   “You speak English.” Tony replied. “Also, isn’t this the part where you point the gun at the handsome rich American and take all his stuff? Not that I mind, granted, but you’re a _shitty_ mugger.”

“Not a mugger. Just thought you needed some help.” He looked Tony up and down, with a look on his face that plainly said _what the fuck are you doing here._

   Tony admired his politeness. Most people just up and said it.

   “Anyways, I’ll, uh, just…let you go?” the stranger began to back up uncertainly. As if this much human interaction had him just about at his limit for the week. He then paused, looking as if he was contemplating something. “It’s probably not a good idea to keep wandering around by yourself,” the stranger said finally. “I’m not the only one who carries a gun around here.”

   “I’ll be fine.” Tony answered. “I know where I’m going.”

   “No, you don’t.”

   “Excuse me?”

   The stranger gave him a slightly apologetic look. “It’s obvious you’re lost. No one who dresses like that” he pointed towards Tony’s slightly rumpled but still perfectly tailored outfit “spends his time somewhere like this” he waved his hand at their dilapidated surroundings. “So, unless you _like_ being mugged…”

   Tony glanced around as well. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there. Lead the way.” He hated bodyguards but, really, this guy hardly counted. Less “bodyguard” and more “bilingual hobo guide”. Totally different.

   They set off, walking side by side. “You know, you never mentioned your name.” Tony pointed out. “I’m Stark. Tony Stark. But you already knew that, right? Everyone knows who I am.”

   Once again, the stranger paused for a while like he was trying to decide something.

   “Bruce,” he answered, slowly and deliberately.

   “Just…Bruce? No last name?”

   “Not that I’m going to tell you, no.”

_Ooh, a challenge._

They kept walking, and Tony kept talking. He was _determined_ to figure this guy out. But the more he asked, and the more Bruce answered, the less focused Tony became. And by the time they had found their way to a part of the city that looked much more comfortably

 familiar, Tony realized something. He was having _fun._ This guy, although being cagey

 and secretive and obviously uncomfortable with the whole situation, was also subtly

 hilarious and _freaking brilliant._ He knew science, he knew literature, he knew seemingly

 every episode of _Star Trek_ , and not just the original series. He was even fairly well-versed in Stark Industries latest weaponry, although he grew antsy and withdrawn when asked about how he knew.

   Which was a little weird.

   But also cool.

   So when Bruce told him that they were nearing where Tony’s hotel was, Tony was understandably a little disappointed.

  “You can make it from here, right?” Bruce said. “I, uh, should probably be going.” He was looking around warily, as if expecting someone to come jumping out of nowhere at him.

“Wait!” Tony interjected. He hadn’t solved this shabby, mop-haired enigma yet. “I’m not doing anything. How about I buy you lunch?” This was his secret weapon- food and money. Bruce looked like he didn’t exactly have an abundance of either.

 Bruce was frowning. “I really shouldn’t. There’s a lot of people around and…”He glanced around. “You’re already starting to grab people’s attention.”

   It was true. Tony hadn’t noticed it before- too used to it, he supposed- but people around them were pointing and whispering to each other. One had even pulled out a camera, which caused Bruce to suddenly yank his cap down over his eyes and turn away.

“Does that bother you?” Tony asked. Then he had a minor revelation. “Wait- you’re not some kind of criminal, are you?” He contemplated this for a moment. Even if Bruce was a criminal, he seemed like an awfully nice one. “You know, people call me a criminal too. It doesn’t bother me.”

   “It’s not that.” Bruce mumbled. “I just…”

   “Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun.”

   Bruce hesitated again, then shrugged. Free food and sheer charisma had won out. “Just let me find us somewhere that won’t give you salmonella.”

   The building he guided them to certainly didn’t _look_ like it wouldn’t give them salmonella, but Bruce reassured him. “Great place. Never been there, but it’s great.” So, Tony went along with it. After all, if you couldn’t trust random geniuses you found on the street, who could you trust? They went in, and sat down on opposite sides of a booth with red vinyl cushions that felt slightly sticky. Most of the inside, though, was much more subdued than one would have expected from the outside, with plain white walls and brown linoleum floors-the perfect color for hiding stains or spills. The place was almost empty, but there were a few tables occupied with other people looking for a late lunch. Some of them kept glancing over at where Bruce and Tony were sitting, which was unsurprising. Either they recognized Stark, or they just thought the two of them made an odd pair. Like The Prince and the Pauper. Except they weren’t masquerading as each other. And that was where the metaphor ended, really.

   A young, pretty waitress wearing an apron the same shade as the seats came over and gave them menus. Tony gave her one of his signature charming smiles. She offered up a small smile back before leaving to wipe down one of the other tables.  

   “I changed my mind.” Tony said after she was out of immediate earshot. “I like this city.”

   “She’s a waitress. I doubt she’s actually interested. Probably she’s just trying to get a tip.”

   “Oh, ye of little faith.” Tony responded, reaching into a pocket on the front of his jacket and pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen. “Just wait and see.”

   He tore off a clean sheet of paper and scribbled down his own name and number on it. When the waitress came back around, he handed it to her with a wink after Bruce had finished telling her their order.  She smiled again, a little awkwardly, as if not sure how else to react.

   “See?” Tony said, leaning back with a satisfied look on his face. “I told you so.”

   Bruce didn’t say anything in response. He seemed to be engrossed in Tony’s notepad. _Shit._ Tony had been sketching out some equations there earlier, just toying around. Still top secret. “Hey, no lookie” he said, snatching the paper back. “Mine.”

  “One of them was wrong.”

   “No way.”

   “I can show you, if you’d like.”

   Tony handed the paper back, along with the pen. He looked both amused and highly skeptical. This guy was smart, yeah, but not _that_ smart. He watched as Bruce pulled out a pair of reading glasses, peered down at the pad, and scribbled on it for a few moments. “There,” he said, handing it back.

 Tony looked at the paper, then let out a long, low whistle. “Wow.” He frowned. “Who did you say you were again?”

   “Just a guy you found on the street, remember? A stray.”

   “Nuh-uh. Not with talent like that. But I’m gonna figure it out.”

   Bruce just shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Oh, believe me, you wouldn’t guess in a million years.”

   Their food arrived. It was pretty good, granted, but Tony was more interested in the person sitting across from him. Finally, he snapped his fingers “I’ve got it.”

  Bruce looked up. “Oh?”

  “You’re not a stray. You’re some kind of mathematical genius who’s living as a hobo to gain spiritual enlightenment.”

   “And where did _that_ come from?”

   “I dunno. You just look like the type. So, did I get it right?”

   “Not even close.”

   “Then….you’re a self-taught scientist who can’t get a job because he can’t afford a suit for the interview?”

   “Wrong again.”

As they ate, Tony continued his wild speculations. After a while, they began to get downright… _bizarre._

   “Let me see…you used to teach at MIT, but you were kicked out because of your unorthodox methods involving…chickens.”

   “Chickens? Seriously?”

   “What’s wrong with chickens? They can live with their heads cut off, which is more than you or I can say of ourselves.”

   Bruce just shook his head.

   Tony was quiet for a bit after that. Then, suddenly, he sat up straight and snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. You’re secretly Dr. Frankenstein, and you’re travelling the world to hunt after your creation.”

  “Almost. You’re getting there, though.”

   Tony chuckled. ‘See? Told you I would get it right.”

   Bruce laughed back, but it was short, staccato. Like he was nervous about something. _Geez, this guy is jumpier than a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs._

   “So, where you headed next? Gonna build your monster a bride? Didn’t work out so well for old Frankie, just an FYI.” Tony said, playing along. He knew Bruce had just said that to get him to stop guessing. The guy was probably part of the Raggedy Andy Mafia or something.

   “Up north, actually.” Bruce said. “Hunting my monster, remember?”

   “Right, right.”

   Shortly afterwards the waitress came over to give them the check, which Tony paid. Then he checked his watch, which had been safely fastened back around his wrist after its attempted theft earlier.

   “I should probably get going,” he said, getting up.

   “Same here.” Bruce answered, standing up as well. “It’s been great.” He paused.    “Seriously. You have no idea.” He looked a little bit sad.

   “Wait.” Tony pulled out his wallet, and fumbled with it for a second “Here.” He produced a wad of cash and presented it to Bruce. “Least I could do. You did save my sorry ass. And it’s still less than I would have to pay if I hired a real tour guide.” He pressed the money into Bruce’s hand, not letting him refuse. “Take it. Go up north, or wherever. Get out of this town.”

  Bruce stood for a moment, looking down at the money both shocked and contemplative. “…Thank you.” He said finally.

  “Good.” Tony grinned. “Now, one favor? I’d ask for your phone number, but I doubt you have one. So I’m gonna settle for last name.

   Bruce bit his lip, looking nervous again. Then he motioned for Tony to lean in. “Banner,” he said. “Bruce Banner.” He said it with such an air of secrecy that it almost made Tony laugh- because, of course, it was a complete lie. Bruce Banner was a top-notch scientist, gone missing years ago and now presumed dead. This guy? Yeah, he was smart. But he wasn’t Banner, that’s for sure. No way.


End file.
